


Promise

by Laylah



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Kiss Battle, M/M, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is ritual, by now: when Vayne has duties to attend to, some tour of a far corner of the empire to make one political point or another, he spends the last night before he leaves with his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

"I will miss you," Larsa murmurs. This is ritual, by now: when Vayne has duties to attend to, some tour of a far corner of the empire to make one political point or another, he spends the last night before he leaves with his brother. They talk of pleasantries, avoiding the subject of Vayne's departure, and perhaps -- if Larsa seems particularly disappointed -- Vayne lets him share a glass of sweet rose wine. Larsa sits in Vayne's lap and Vayne holds him, savoring these moments. Larsa is everything his brother should be: quick-witted and clever, proud, growing into the dark Solidor beauty, and above all _younger_ , so that he does not stand between Vayne and the throne.

"And I you," Vayne answers. He takes a sip of the wine -- sweet, so sweet; he drinks a much drier vintage when he is not entertaining his brother -- and hands it to Larsa next.

Larsa takes the goblet in both hands, carefully; his cheeks are faintly pink from drinking. He seems to wobble slightly in Vayne's lap when he tips the goblet up to drink. Just as well this is the last of the wine.

"You know I'll come home to you as quickly as I'm able," Vayne promises. He retrieves the goblet and sets it on the table, watching Larsa's pink tongue chase the last stray drop from the corner of his lip. "I can't bear to stay away from you."

"You flatter me," Larsa says, but in such a pleased tone that it's clear he enjoys the flattery. "Truly, I am the one you come home for?"

"You are," Vayne says. "Always." His dear Larsa, beautiful and clever and pliable; his favorite. He cups Larsa's cheek in his hand and leans closer, slowly; Larsa's eyes flutter shut and his lips part.

His mouth is soft, relaxed, when Vayne claims the kiss, and he makes a tiny sound that thrums in Vayne's blood. Vayne presses his advantage and Larsa's mouth opens for his tongue, sweet with wine and deliciously warm. He wants more -- always wants more, when Larsa allows him this much so readily -- but it's too soon; Larsa is too young, too delicate, not ready to indulge in more than kisses. When he grows into his own desires, though, Vayne means to show him every pleasure they could possibly share.

For now, Vayne draws back after only a kiss. Larsa's lips are flushed, his eyes dark and shining. "Hurry home, my brother," he says.

"Always," Vayne promises. "For you."


End file.
